Prologue — The Fairy of Lake Delin
"Have you heard? There's a fairy living at Lake Delin."
"Are you an idiot? That's not a fairy, that's a first-year."
"...Not a fairy?"
The girls in their uniforms murmured between themselves, trading whispers under the arcade.
"He's such a genius that the Headmaster personally granted him the only exemption from classes in the entire Academy. That's who the fairy really is. You've heard of the Slothful Luid, haven't you?"
"Ah... yeah, I think I have. That Lazy Young Master who supposedly does nothing but sleep all day?"
"That's the one. And apparently he really does nothing but sleep."
The Phanthesium Empire. The Imperial Academy.
Among the gathering of prodigies the world had to offer, a rumor had, at some point, begun to spread — the rumor that a fairy dwelled at Lake Delin. Those in the know understood that the 'fairy' was, in truth, human.
His real identity was the youngest child of the Ducal House of Windsor — Luid Christopher.
Hailed as a genius without precedent, yet notoriously reclusive, he was a young man whose reputation far outran his public appearances.
And right now, exactly as the rumors promised, he was fast asleep at Lake Delin.
It was a legendary lake, so saturated with mana that no ordinary talent dared even approach its shores. Which was precisely the point — here, and here alone, he could sleep undisturbed.
"...Mm."
Luid rubbed his eyes.
He was famous as the Lazy Young Master, yes — but he was even more famous for the face that came with it. Silken golden hair and vivid blue eyes that lit up like cut gemstones whenever they caught the light. With drowsiness forever dragging his eyelids halfway down, he looked so ethereal that calling him a fairy would have raised no objections whatsoever.
The boy murmured in a voice still soft with youth.
"So the first episode starts soon, huh."
A strange thing, indeed, for a young man napping by the lake to say.
The truth of the matter was this.
Luid Christopher Windsor.
His true identity — a transmigrator.
He had been reading a web novel that leaned on the oldest cliché in the book: the twenty-first century, centuries more advanced than this medieval era, a small country called Korea, and waking up in another world — and somewhere along the way, the cliché had swallowed him.
But once he'd possessed this body, he'd found himself blessed with noble blood, a striking face, more money than he could spend, and scenery worth painting. He was, in a word, thoroughly satisfied.
He was simply an aspiring layabout who might already have achieved his dream.
"Story, schmory. I'm going back to sleep."
And with that, he slipped soundlessly back into deep slumber.